


kiss and makeup

by badbavarois



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comic-Con, Cosplay, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 06:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13289421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badbavarois/pseuds/badbavarois
Summary: Hux and Ren have been going to cons in couples costumes for years now, and Hux is more than willing for it to stay strictly platonic. Too bad his heart didn't get the memo.





	kiss and makeup

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this over the summer for the kylux mini bang, but shit came up for both me and the artist and i was really busy with school so i couldn't post it when i finally got it edited, so here it is now  
> beta-ed by rosywiki on tumblr

“Ren, where are the suitcases?” 

 

Hux is tired, and a little bit lightheaded. He’s gotten 10 hours of sleep max over the past week finishing the last minute touches on all of their cosplays, and he’s not sure of the last time he ingested something other than caffeine. 

 

“Ren!” he yells again, stepping out of the closet. “Where are you?”

 

“What?” 

 

“Where are the suitcases?”

 

“I thought you were getting them!”

 

Hux sighs, leaning against the doorframe. This happens every time they go to a con - Kylo promises he’ll get the suitcases and pack everything Hux laid out. It  _ should  _ be a system after all the years and con seasons they’ve spent together, but it’s not, because  _ every  _ time, he leaves Hux to run around and finish everything so they’re not late for literally everything for the nth time. 

 

“Honey ~,” Kylo says, resting a hand on Hux’s shoulder.

 

He slaps it away, turning to glare at Kylo even as a blush blossoms on his cheeks. “Don’t call me that,” he spits out.

 

Kylo stumbles back. “Oh, ah - sorry, Hux.” 

 

“Can you finish packing?” He can’t bring himself to even look in Kylo’s direction. “I’m going to take a shower.”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Hux has never heard Kylo so quiet before. Usually, he’s so loud and passionate and punching walls; the lack of noise might be worse than having to patch up drywall every other weekend. 

 

…

 

He turns on the shower but never actually manages to get in. Instead, he sits on the bathmat and stares at the cabinets and wonders how he and Kylo ever became roommates in the first place. 

 

All it took was one group cosplay with Kylo’s cousin and her boyfriends photographed by Phasma while they were still all in college for them to be stuck together. Kylo was worse back then, somehow, and Hux hated him. He still does, no matter what Phasma says when they’re both hungover from too much white wine.

 

He hates Kylo Ren, but now, the circumstances are a bit different. 

 

_ ‘You love him,’  _ Phasma always says, but Hux doesn’t think it’s possible for someone to love a man like Kylo Ren, much less for Kylo to ever love someone back.  _ ‘You love him. Just admit it.’ _

 

He’s brash and loud and always so angry, and when he doesn’t get his way he bares his teeth like a dog and growls before stomping away. Hux always wants to tell him to grow up like the rest of their friends, but Kylo would bite his head off before the words fully left his mouth. He could just move out, but Hux doesn’t have the money for a down payment on another apartment or a friend with a spare room.

 

Not that there’s anything else holding him back, he tells himself as he finally stands, because Kylo is just Kylo and Hux is just Hux. There’s nothing between them.

 

…

 

The car ride the next morning is near silent. 

 

Kylo is passed the fuck out in the passenger seat as Hux weaves in and out of traffic, two hands on the steering wheel, sunglasses blocking out the morning glare, his double shot latte in the cup holder beside him.

 

The convention is four hours away. Kylo doesn’t wake up until they’re thirty minutes away, jerking up and yanking his earbuds out. His hair is even messier than usual, and Hux wants to throw every hair product under the sun at him until he learns to manage it, or at least makes it look presentable. 

 

But then again, nothing about Kylo is ever  _ decent.  _ His rent is always late and his music is too loud and he always leaves the kitchen a mess and  _ God,  _ Hux hates him, but he can never bring himself to say goodbye. 

 

Maybe it’s because no one clicks with him like Kylo does when it comes to cosplay, no one else fits just as well in photo shoots, even if by all facts and reason Kylo’s too long limbs should make him too awkward and gangly to model. But somehow, it doesn’t, and Hux can never bring himself to look away, which led to where they are now. 

 

Kylo’s reading the color-coded schedule Hux had printed out that morning. He had every moment of the weekend planned down to the  _ minute,  _ because Hux was nothing if not thorough. 

 

“We’re doing Batman and Robin today?” Kylo asks, chewing on the cord of his earbuds. 

 

Hux nods, glancing at the GPS before merging into the left lane. 

 

“Why not Harley and Ivy?”

 

“Because Finn and Rey already decided to be Superman and Lois Lane today and the group photos would be more cohesive. And, the makeup is less intensive and we’ll be ready sooner.”

 

Hux knows Kylo is pouting without even glancing in his direction or looking in the mirror. “But we’re not going until - “

 

“We have to set up our booth still and check into the hotel. We won’t have time.” He checks over his shoulder before steering into the exit lane. “Besides, you already agreed to the schedule when I sent it to you three weeks ago, so.”

 

“That’s not true - “

 

“It is. I emailed it to you and asked what you thought, and you responded, and I quote,  _ ‘sure idk.’” _

 

Kylo exhales heavily through his nose. “You know what - whatever. I don’t care.” He jams his earbuds back in before Hux can respond. His music is loud enough that Hux can hear it over the steady hum of the engine and the blaring of the occasional car horn and the slamming of brakes. 

 

Hux just prays that they’ll make it to the hotel before Kylo lashes out again.

 

…

 

The hotel messes up, leaving Kylo to open their door to a single queen-sized bed. Kylo drops the duffel bags he was carrying, and Hux winces, trying to not think about all the eyeshadow palettes that shattered as the bag hit the carpet. 

 

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, because the last thing he needs is Kylo trashing an Embassy Suites like he’s some kind of rockstar. “We can just get one of the rollaway beds,” he says, because either one of them would definitely fit on a bed made for a child.

 

Because, no matter what Phasma might say, he doesn’t love Kylo. He can share a bed with his roommate of 3 years and not fall in love.

 

“We can talk to the staff later,” he says, not that he intends to, because it’s really not a big deal, and the chances of them getting a different room when the convention has most likely already booked this hotel solid are lower than even Hux wants to admit.

 

“It’s not a big deal. We’re both adults; there’s no need to act like a child.”

 

“There’s no need to...“ Kylo trails off, shaking his head until his face is covered by a mass of hair. He carries their bags into the room, never once making eye contact with Hux, and it leaves Hux feeling a little lost, like he’s been cut out of the loop.

 

…

 

The two of them have setting up their booth down to a science - perfected motions, set tasks, a rhythm the two of them lack everywhere else. When the two of them are like this, Hux can almost pretend that Kylo Ren isn’t the worst person he’s ever met, and he can almost pretend that maybe, just maybe, Phasma has a point.

 

…

 

Once their table is set up, Hux sends Kylo to the bathroom to change into his costume. The makeup isn’t very intensive - just some concealer for Kylo and foundation and contour for Hux so he doesn’t look quite so pale - before masks and hair and making sure Kylo hasn’t somehow managed to rip the Batman cosplay  _ once again,  _ before attaching the capes and setting up the credit card reader and making sure their display is symmetrical and -

 

Kyo flops into the seat beside him, hair messily braided back and out of his face. He drops his clothes onto the floor beside him. Hux wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t want to think about what could be living in the carpet of the convention center.

 

Hux stands to grab the Robin costume, but Kylo stops him. 

 

“What?”

 

“The first bathroom is really crowded. There’s some group anime cosplay. Go to the one on the second floor; it’s completely empty.” Kylo smiles, and Hux forces himself to return it.

 

He carries the embroidered garment bag over his shoulder and decides to not listen to Kylo. there’s no reason for him to go up to the second floor and Kylo probably only wants to see him flushed from taking the stairs and annoyed, but as he nears the bathroom, he can already hear the laughter echoing down the halls. 

 

He passes a few couples and opens the bathroom door before immediately slamming it shut, nearly dropping his garment bag. Conventions are weird, and the people they attract are often times even weirder. Often times, they forget public bathrooms aren’t nearly as private as one would wish and strip down in any and all corners. 

 

He takes a deep breath and begins the trek up to the second-floor bathroom. 

 

…

 

Hux does his makeup in the bathroom, leaning as close to the counter as he can without getting the Robin costume damp. The foundation is a shade darker than it should be. When he bought it, he had hoped he would tan at least somewhat before cosplay season started, but instead, he’s stuck without an alternative for the next few days and a pasty neck. He bites his tongue and blends down further. 

 

He considers concealer for half of a second before pulling out a tub of waterproof eyeliner. His hands shake but the line remains steady. He’s almost done with his other eye when the door slams open. He jerks his hand away from his face before he can ruin his progress. 

 

He glares at Poe and Finn in the mirror until they stop laughing. 

 

“Hey, Hux,” Finn says. They haven’t seen each other since Kylo’s cousin, Rey, moved in with them three months ago and Kylo had dragged Hux along to help and mediate any arguments that would ultimately arise whenever Kylo was around people for extended periods of time. 

 

“Hello, Finn, Poe.” 

 

“How are you, Hux.”

 

He hates when people try to talk to him in the bathroom, even if he’s known them for six years. “I’m fine. What are you going as, Poe?”

 

“Lex Luther.”

 

Hux just hums, doesn’t reply and isn’t surprised. He saw the pictures Rey posted on their joint Instagram account a few months ago while Poe was still sewing it. The cosplay looks good, even if he thinks it’s a basic character that has been done a thousand times too many. 

 

He shoves the makeup back in his bag before pushing the door open with his shoulder. 

 

“I’ll see you at the shoot later, Hux,” Finn calls, waving. Hux just nods.

 

…

 

Kylo is drawing in his sketchbook by the time Hux is back to their table, hunched over it so no one can see. Hux wants to be mad, but Kylo also already finished braiding his hair back so he can put the cowl and mask on, so he’ll let it go.

 

“Makeup time, Ren,” he says, sitting down once he has the eyeliner, makeup wipes, and Kylo’s foundation. 

 

Kylo slams his sketchbook shut before looking up at Hux. Hux isn’t surprised - he’s never seen the inside of Kylo’s sketchbook or any of the pieces on saved to his desktop. If it’s not finished it might as well not exist. Hux doesn’t care. If Kylo’s patreon lets him pay rent on time every month, Hux isn’t going to ask questions about the art he doesn’t - or can’t - sell at conventions.

 

Kylo closes his eyes once Hux starts, eyelashes fluttering every time Hux drags the sponge over his skin. The eyeliner is even worse, because, “For fuck’s sake, Ren, keep your eyes closed.”

 

“I’m trying,” Kylo grits out. 

 

“Sure you are,” Hux rolls his eyes and finishes the makeup. 

 

…

 

They take a few pictures with convention-goers, but for the most part, the two of them sit at the booth, selling Kylo’s art and Hux’s cosplay pieces. 

 

“What time is the thing with Rey?” Kylo asks, not looking up from his sketchbook. He’s using the pens Hux got him for Christmas the year before. Hux didn’t even realize he still had them, let alone uses them; he doesn’t have the faintest idea of what Kylo gifted him. 

 

“Five,” Hux says, before asking, “What are you drawing?”

 

“You.”

 

Hux blinks. During conventions, Kylo offers a few commission slots - nothing too fancy, just a few pieces he can finish and give to the buyer.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why not?” Kylo asks, moving his arm so Hux can see that it is indeed him shirtless with a six pack and pointed ears. “Drawing from life is an important skill.”

 

“Then why do I have a six pack?” Hux doesn’t have a single ounce of muscle - never has, even after years of high school and college spent trying to pack it on.

 

“Not everything has to conform to reality. Besides, do you want me to draw you as the pasty child you are?”

 

Hux doesn’t pout. He  _ doesn’t,  _ because Hux isn’t a child. 

 

There’s no way Phasma is right.

 

…

 

Hux feels Phasma before he sees her - arms tight around his stomach, picking him up and spinning him around, face pressed against his back before setting him back down. As annoying as it is with the Robin cape and general restraints of the cosplay, he’s still smiling. 

 

“I haven’t seen you in  _ ages,”  _ she says when it’s really only been two weeks. 

 

“You could have come over - “

 

“Nope,” she says, finger over his lips to silence him. “You have a mood when you’re sewing. No one wants to deal with that, except maybe Kylo because he’s just as terrible as you.”

 

“Shut up and take pictures.”

 

“Anything for a paycheck,” she jokes, winking obnoxiously. 

 

After that, the photo shoot goes well. Phasma’s assistant, Mitaka, has to run around with the reflectors, burning under the July sun. It’s even worse in the cosplays. Hux can feel sweat sliding down his spine, building up around the edges of the mask, but he makes it work for photo after photo. 

 

The worst part is Kylo. He’s always cranky in the summer, and the Batman costume doesn’t make it any easier. Hux force feeds him crackers and water in between poses, glaring every time Kylo gets crumbs on the cosplay. 

 

“Do you guys want to get dinner with us?” Rey asks. Her hair is halfway down and Finn’s hand is full of bobby pins. “We’re probably going to go to the Taco Bell down the street.”

 

Hux glances at Kylo. he’s glaring at Mitaka, the mask and cowl already off and on the ground at his feet. “I think we’re going back to the hotel.”

 

Rey smiles. “I know how it is.” She starts to turn away before saying, “You’re good with him, though. Or, at least, better than Aunt Leia was.”

 

…

 

It’s when the two of them get back to the hotel after a quick McDonald’s run that Hux remembers that there is still only one bed. He opens his mouth to ask Kylo if he wants to take the bed in a half-hearted attempt to be cordial, but he’s already shedding his clothes and dropping cosplay pieces on his way to the bathroom.

 

He calls the front desk only to be left on hold. Elevator music plays, soft and repetitive and seemingly endless. By the time someone takes his call, Kylo has turned the shower on. 

 

“How may I help you?”

 

“We booked a room with two beds, but the one we were given a key to only has one king size. Is it possible for us to have a roll - “

 

“Due to the convention, the hotel is booked solid. I have no way to help you. The bed currently in your room is the only one available to you.”

 

“But - “

 

“I’m sorry. Please feel free to try again tomorrow.” The call ends, and Hux lets out a deep breath before standing up. 

 

He’s not sleeping on the floor, and he doubts Kylo would be willing to either, which leaves one option - sharing the bed. He turns around. The bed definitely isn’t small, even for two tall adult men. They wouldn’t touch each other, would barely feel the other’s body heat, but  _ still. _

 

But still, Hux is an adult, and even if he doesn’t act like it sometimes, Kylo is as well.

 

When Kylo comes out of the bathroom, Hux doesn’t speak, because he’s an adult who knows how to pick his battles. There’s no need to taunt the beast before he’s ready. 

 

He wipes off the makeup and washes his face with cold water, listening to Kylo’s music through the bathroom door. It was annoying, back when they first started living together when Kylo would refuse to use earbuds or headphones or anything other than his overpriced speakers with the bass turned all the way up until the walls shake, but Hux can’t deny that he has grown used to the heavy drums and guitar. 

 

By the time he leaves the bathroom, Kylo has made himself on the bed with his sketchbook, laptop and a gallon size Ziploc bag of Copic markers. Hux shoves his toiletry bag back into his suitcase and finds the book he had been reading - a historical account of General Rae Sloane’s life - before setting on the bed beside Kylo. 

 

Kylo doesn’t look at him and lets out a disgruntled sound Hux can barely hear over the music.

 

“The hotel staff said there would be no way for us to get another bed,” Hux says, opening the novel to his bookmark. Kylo drops a marker. Hux prays that the cap was on. “We can try again tomorrow, but I doubt anything will pan out.”

 

“I’m going to the gym,” Kylo says, standing up. He doesn’t change out of his boxers and torn band tee before stomping out of the room. Hux turns off the light behind him after putting his art supplies and computer on the desk.

 

…

 

Hours later, he wakes up to the sound of the shower turning on. The alarm clock reads two thirty-four AM. He closes his eyes when Kylo opens the bathroom door, and holds his breath when he climbs into bed.

 

Hux falls asleep to the weight of Kylo Ren’s back against his own.

 

…

 

Hux wakes up before Kylo, before the sun had even begun to peak over the edges of the horizon. He stands in the shower facing the water and holds his breath until his lungs burn. His skin is bright red when he finally gets out, hot to the touch and blurry in the mirror. He wipes the steam away with the edge of the towel and frowns at his reflection. His freckles show up more than before against his pinked skin.

 

When Kylo wakes up an hour after him, the two of them go downstairs to have breakfast with Finn, Rey, and Poe. The three of them are so awake it scares Hux. Kylo doesn’t talk, only getting up occasionally for more food as Hux slowly stirs his tea. 

 

“What are you and Kylo going as today?” Finn asks between bites of syrup-drenched pancakes. 

 

“Deadpool and Spiderman.” It was Kylo’s idea. Hux thinks it’s another overdone combination, but it’s far from the worst. Even if it was, it’s still better than Kylo’s recommendation of vocaloids. 

 

“That’s good,” Rey says. Her makeup is already done and she’s halfway through her hair. “Which one of you is Wade?”

 

“I am,” Kylo says, sitting down next to Hux. His plate is piled high with waffles and bacon. Rey snatches a piece. Kylo opens his mouth, angry, before blinking and deciding against it. Hux isn’t surprised - he doubts it is physically possible for Kylo to be violent before seven AM. 

 

They go back to their room once people begin to filter in for breakfast. Kylo turns the news on, but doesn’t pay attention to it as Hux lays out makeup and cosplay pieces. Hux does his own first, leaning against the bathroom counter. His hands shake and he bites his tongue and rubs his eyes raw with makeup wipes trying to correct his mistakes. 

 

By the time he finishes, Kylo is passed on the bed, phone hanging off his fingertips. Hux takes it, setting it on the bedside table so Kylo doesn’t drop it, before waking him up. His hair is tangled and his eyes are bleary as he stumbles behind Hux. He sits on the toilet lid as Hux braids his hair close to his scalp, his forehead resting against Hux’s stomach. He stops pulling as hard when Kylo winces. 

 

…

 

They’re setting their booth up for the first official day of the convention when Hux realizes the world may or may not be ending. 

 

“Ren,” he says, voice higher than he wants it to be, “where is the card reader?”

 

“It should be in the black bag - “

 

“Obviously, I already looked there, Ren. Where is it?” He’s holding the bag in a death grip, staring down at its contents like that will make the card reader magically appear. 

 

“It’s probably back at the hotel, calm down,” Kylo says, not bothering to look up from his sketchbook. 

 

“Calm down - ?!” He can feel his face going red with anger, his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands. “Credit cards make up 75% of our sales. I’m not going to  _ ‘calm down,’  _ Kylo.”

 

“Then go get it.” Kylo still won’t look up. Hux’s stomach twists in knots, his jaw aches. He’s fucking furious. 

 

He rips the sketchbook from Kylo’s hands and doesn’t bother to look at the art before throwing it on the ground. “Fuck you, Kylo.”

 

…

 

“I know it wasn’t the best reaction, Phasma,” he whispers in the last stall of the second-floor bathroom. It’s empty - there’s still another thirty minute before con-goers arrive. “But what else could I have done?”

 

“I don’t know - not blown up at Kylo?”

 

He knows he'll sound like a toddler, but he still says, “He always does - “

 

“That’s not an excuse, Hux. You’re an adult, not a ten year old. There was no reason to sink to his level.”

 

“We still don’t have our card reader, though.” When Phasma doesn’t respond and the call sounds muffled, he asks if she’s still there.

 

“Yeah, sorry. Mitaka said he could get it for you if you gave him your key card.”

 

“Are you two sleeping together?”

 

“Not relevant. Just give Mitaka your card. He’ll be at your table in ten minutes. Don’t keep him waiting.”

 

…

 

Kylo is staring down Mitaka by the time Hux gets back to the booth. Hux rifles through his bag for his hotel key as fast as he can before shoving it into Mitaka’s hand.

 

“I’ll be back soon.”

 

“Thanks,” Hux replies and Mitaka flashes a quick smile before running towards the exit.

 

“What’s Phasma’s assistant doing here?” Kylo asks. He’s back to drawing in his sketchbook.

 

“Fixing your mistake,” Hux says, vowing to not talk to Kylo unless strictly necessary. 

 

…

 

Once Mitaka, panting and red-faced, comes back with Hux’s key and card reader ten minutes after the con opened, things begin to run more smoothly. Kylo takes a few commissions, Hux sells some of his work, but the atmosphere is stilted. 

 

“How long are you going to stay mad at me?” Kylo finally asks, breaking the silence. Hux doesn’t respond in favor of checking the time on his phone. It’s ten thirty - he swallows and prays that the time will stop going by at a crawl. 

 

He considers saying,  _ ‘I’m not mad at you,’   _ but even the twelve-year-old who came by with their mother could sense the tension, barely slowing to look at Kylo’s art. 

 

“Hux - “

 

“Is there something I need to say to you, Ren?” He stares across the hallway at the artist booth opposite them. He hates everything about their style - the shading, the coloring, the abstract anatomy - but it’s better than seeing Kylo’s face. He always was an ugly crier, all glassy eyes and ruby red cheeks.

 

“No.” Kylo sounds heartbroken and Hux feels like someone is force feeding him shards of ice until his core is frozen and bloody. “I just -  never mind. Sorry.”

 

A minute passes and Hux is still staring at the art when Kylo pushes back his chair and stands up. “I’m going to get some food. If anyone comes by to ask about their commissions, tell them they’ll be ready tomorrow.”

 

Hux doesn’t remind them they have snacks in one of the bags, not when he can hear the tears in Kylo’s voice, waiting to fall. 

 

…

 

The Spiderman cosplay is Hux’s favorite because no one can tell that he’s grimacing in group photos. He likes the Deadpool one on Kylo because no one can tell he’s glaring. Beyond that, they’re easy crowd pleasers - a few pseudo-couple poses, some rehearsed fights, and photographers are clamoring to book them. Even Hux can look past the unoriginality when his craftsmanship is award-worthy. 

 

So when a Marvel cosplay group lacking a Peter Parker and Wade Wilson spot them, Hux tugs on his mask, asks another artist to watch their booth, and gets to work. 

 

…

 

He and Kylo let the other team call the shots during the shoot and hang out behind the photographer while they’re not needed. Hux does the same thing he always does - keeps Kylo hydrated and fed, the Deadpool mask pulled up to his forehead. 

 

“Are you still mad at me?” Kylo asks. The Thor and Hawkeye cosplayers are currently trying to pull off a shot that entails the two of them holding up Ironman to limited success. 

 

Hux doesn’t answer at first, biting his tongue. “No,” he finally decides, “Not anymore.”

 

“Why not?”

 

The Thor and Hawkeye finally manage to pull off the pose, and the photographer runs, trying to get as many angles as possible, their assistant always half a step behind with the reflectors in hand.

 

“Because it’s far from the worse thing you’ve ever done, Ren,” Hux says, thinking back to the time he punched a hole through their front door and Hux had to pay for the damage, “And I doubt it’s the worse thing you’ll ever do.”

 

…

 

After a few ensemble shots, Kylo and Hux somehow end up in front of the camera. Kylo is holding Hux bridal style, his mask pulled up so his mouth is uncovered. Hux is holding his own mask in his left hand, his arm hanging limply at his side. He’s blushing, looking up at Kylo. Hux can barely see his eyes through the mesh.

 

He barely breathes as the camera flashes and everything feels condensed into a single second - stretching on and on. It’s just him and Kylo, the warmth of Kylo’s arms against his spine and thighs, oxygen caught in his chest. 

 

It’s always just him and Kylo.

 

…

 

The rest of the day passes by in a blur. Hux doesn’t think he ever dislodged that breath of oxygen. It’s taken up permanent residence in his chest and won’t leave. It’s a constant pressure, expanding in his throat every time he tries to talk to Kylo until he can’t talk. It leaves him staring at the bed in their hotel room until Kylo is forced to walk around him, brushing against Hux’s forearm.

 

And it keeps him up all night, hypersensitive to Kylo’s every half-awake shift, every inhale and exhale. 

 

Phasma can’t be right, not when it means living like this.

 

…

 

Hux wakes up early again the next morning. He has the shower running as cold as he can bear, but he can feel every inch of skin Kylo brushed against in his sleep. He attempts to scrub himself clean but ultimately gives up when the ghost touches never fade. 

 

Someone bangs on the bathroom and Hux jumps, smacking his head against the shower wall. 

 

“Hurry up, Hux!” Kylo yells, barely auditable over the rush of the water. “I have to take a shower, too!”

 

Hux takes a few minutes to shut off the water, takes even longer to dry off, comb his hair, and get dressed. He shoulders past Kylo once he finally opens the bathroom door, a bleach white towel draped around his neck.

 

“Took you long enough,” Kylo grumbles, slamming the door shut behind him. Less than thirty seconds later, Hux can hear the water running again. 

 

Hux sits on top of the desk and does his makeup. He doesn’t have his contacts in yet - they’re in the bathroom with Kylo - so leans close to the mirror and peers at his reflection. The Nightwing mask is a mix of dark blue and black paint, with thin strips of white along the edges. It’s easier, cheaper, than having to make another mask to cling to his face.

 

Once Kylo is out of the bathroom, he puts his costume on before popping his contacts in. While Kylo braids his hair back, Hux smooths his hair down and puts on the wig cap and the short black wig over it. He runs his fingers through it, displacing any loose hairs from cutting it the weekend before. 

 

Hux watches Kylo struggle to get the Catwoman cosplay on. This always happens; Hux just hopes he doesn’t tear it like he did to Sailor Venus last season at AX. But somehow - Hux assumes sheer force of will - none of the seams break.

 

“Ready?” Hux asks once he finishes Kylo’s makeup and his wig is on.

 

“Ready.”

 

…

 

Things run more smoothly at the convention than they did the previous morning. Kylo finishes his first few commission pieces and hands them off to the buyers, people ask for pictures that both Kylo and Hux manage to smile in for the most part. 

 

Or, it goes well until it doesn’t.

 

“These aren’t even good,” the man says. He’s balding, his face overgrown with a five o’clock shadow at ten fifteen in the morning. He complimented Hux’s craftsmanship, the attention to detail, the accuracy, until Hux told him the price for Jon Snow’s Longclaw. 

 

“Others would beg to differ,” Hux replies. He has always hated this part of conventions - people like your work until they see the price tag. “The sword is 150.”

 

“It’s not even actual metal - “

 

“Which is why the price isn’t even higher,  _ sir.”  _ For once in his goddamn life, Hux wishes Kylo was closer. The second-floor bathroom isn’t even far, just five minutes of weaving between crowds and a quick ride of the escalator, but Kylo feels worlds away.

 

“There’s a reason you have so many items left. No one wants to buy from someone who overcharges for shitty work,” the man spits out.

 

“What’s going on?” For once, Hux doesn’t jump when Kylo speaks, not when he sounds like a single spec of clarity in a sea of red. 

 

“This - this  _ conman  _ is trying to charge me an outrageous price for terrible quality work!” The man sounds even angrier now, explaining his convoluted perspective as his face goes red with hatred. “You’re the only one who’s come to defend me - “

 

“Which piece did you want to buy?” Kylo asks. His voice is just a hint deeper than it usually is, a bit scarier, a bit harsher, and yet, it makes Hux feel a million times safer. 

 

“The Longclaw,” he says, “with the scabbard.”

 

“Hand it to me?” Kylo asks, but it’s clear it’s not a request. Once he has it in hand, he looks at it, feeling the weight, studying the handle.

 

“How much does it cost?” 

 

“$150, which is insane - “

 

“It’s really not. Wouldn’t you agree, Hux?” Kylo finally turns to him, his mouth curled at the edges into the smallest of smiles. His eyes sparkle, dark and enchanting. 

 

“I would, Ren.” He turns back to the man, suddenly more confident with Kylo here by his side. “Honestly, I should be charging more. I’m selling myself short, not charging an arm and a leg for this after the hours I spent on it.”

 

The balding man doesn’t look quite so brave anymore. “I demand you lower the price - “

 

“That’s not happening.”

 

“I’ll make sure you never come back to this convention again!”

 

“Try me,” Kylo says, back straightening so he can glare down at the man. Hux can see it in Kylo’s eyes - he’s livid, barely holding himself back. Hux is surprised he hasn’t tried to use the sword on anyone yet.

 

“I’ll - I’ll - I’ll talk to the head of this convention!” The man yells before running off. He trips over a stray water bottle but manages to catch himself before turning a corner.

 

“I wish he fell,” Hux says, still looking down the hallway.

 

“I’ll punch him if he comes back.”

 

“What - why?” Suddenly, Hux feels like he’s been ripped out of the protective bubble Kylo had surrounded him in. “You can’t just  _ punch  _ people at a con. We’ll lose our vendors license, we won’t be allowed back next year - “

 

“He was a dick,” Kylo says.

 

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Hux takes a deep breath and sits down. He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. “Just, please don’t punch anyone. I know controlling emotions isn’t your specialty, but you can’t just do whatever you want in public.”

 

Neither of them speaks for a few minutes. The convention continues around them. People stop to peruse their work, but few actually purchase anything. But even still, Hux smiles, says  _ ‘thank you’  _ as he wraps people’s cosplay pieces in bubble wrap and their art in a plastic slip. 

 

And all the while, his stomach feels warm like someone left a lit match inside of him. Every time Kylo brushes against him it flares, and he doesn’t mind that Phasma may be right.

 

…

 

They’re leaving the convention for the night when they see him again. 

 

Kylo steps in front of Hux and tightens the straps of his backpack, but not fast enough for Hux to miss his glare. 

 

“What do you want?” His anger is evident in his voice, no longer hidden like it had been that morning.

 

“The way I was treated earlier is unacceptable,” the man replies.

 

“Kylo,” Hux whispers, watching the man, “Why can’t we just call security about harassment?”

 

“You know that won’t work,” Kylo says. “Security is shit here every year.”

 

Hux concedes. Kylo’s correct, for once.

 

“Your point?”

 

“If you don’t apologize, you’ll never come back to this city, let alone the convention,” the man says, but Hux can see through the facade. He’s nervous, scared shitless, really, and it’s starting to show.

 

“What do we have to apologize for?” Kylo asks. “Selling cosplay pieces at a reasonable price? Just because you don’t agree with the prices doesn’t mean no one else does.”

 

The man screws up his face, walking forward until he’s a single step away from them. “You fucking bi - “

 

And Kylo punches him, moving so quickly Hux can barely follow him. He sees Kylo move and then the man is lying flat on his back, hands to his nose as blood slowly slides down his face.

 

“What the hell?” the man shouts, muffled by his hands.

 

“Come on,” Kylo says. He’s smiling as he grabs Hux’s hand, dragging him through the evening crowds on the sidewalk. They sprint the entire way to the hotel, hand in hand the whole way.

 

…

 

Hux wraps Kylo’s hand once he wipes off the blood. He tries to be angry, tries to be stern, but he’s screwed, he realizes as he helps Kylo take off the wig and wig cap before unbraiding his hair. 

 

He loves Kylo.

 

…

 

Conventions ending always leaves Hux equal parts happy and sad - happy to sleep in his own bed again, sad to leave and return to the real world. It’s strange for him to bounce his leg while Kylo gets ready, itching to get home. But things are different now. Sleeping in the same room is one thing, the same bed is completely different. 

 

“Ready, Harley Quinn?” Kylo asks, tugging on a long, red wig. He did his own makeup this morning - Poison Ivy and her pale green skin and dark red lipstick and thin vines creeping along her body. 

 

Hux swallows, glancing down to make sure every part of Kylo’s costume was in place. “Ready.”

 

…

 

“What’s wrong?” Kylo asks as they walk to the convention. 

 

“Nothing?” Hux blushes when his voice cracks. “Nothing,” he reaffirms. 

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah - “

 

“Because if it’s about the thing yesterday, I promise that was a one-off thing. He won’t bother you anymore.” 

 

“I know,” and he doesn’t know, because this happens every convention, but never to this extent. What would he have done without Kylo there - let that man walk all over him? He’s Armitage Hux, he’s supposed to be tougher than this, he supposed - 

 

“Hux?” 

 

He looks up at Kylo. he hadn’t realized that he had stopped walking, or that Kylo was now several feet ahead of him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, walking a little quicker to catch up. “I promise it’s nothing. I’m probably just coming down with something. Con germs, you know.”

 

Kylo nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. 

 

…

 

Hux feels on edge all morning. Every time someone comes up to their booth, his muscles tense up, not relaxing until they walk away. He doesn’t have enough fingers to count how many times Kylo has looked over, worry clear on his face, nor does he have enough fingers to count how many times he’s faked a smile and shook off Kylo’s concern.

 

So when Kylo rips a seam in the Poison Ivy leotard, Hux finally feels like he’s combusting.

 

“Come on,” he says, grabbing Kylo’s hand and his emergency sewing kit. They’re practically running through the convention, Kylo keeping up easily with his long legs. 

 

He shoves Kylo into the last stall of the second-floor bathroom and locks the door behind him. 

 

“Do we have to do this in here?” Kylo complains, arms wrapped around his torso.

 

“Yes,” Hux says. “We wouldn’t have to if you just didn’t rip every fucking single one of your cosplays along the gusset.”

 

“Do you have to use that word every time, Hux? It’s so pretentious.”

 

“It’s the technical term,  _ Kylo, _ so yes I do. Leg up,” he gestures to the toilet paper dispenser. Kylo’s annoyance is clear, but he doesn’t apply again as he complies. He looks down at the ground and considers kneeling as to not hurt his back, but the ground is wet with... _ something,  _ so he bends at the waist and gets to work looking at the tear.

 

It’s small, but with the way the threads are unraveling, Hux knows it will only get worse. He cuts a length of clear nylon thread and runs it through the needle and ties off the end.

 

“How much longer?” Kylo asks. Usually, it takes longer for him to get to this stage.

 

“As long as it takes,” Hux says and finally begins to start sewing. “You’re still packing with tape?”

 

“Yeah - you’re not?” Kylo sounds caught off guard.

 

“I haven’t in like… two years?” He hates talking while he sews - it’s why he listens to podcasts - but this is easy, thoughtless conversation. This, he can do. “It’s really not that hard.”

 

“But it’s more effort.”

 

“It’s less effort.”

 

“No, it’s - “

 

Hux cuts him off, “Please don’t argue with me when I am in the position to sew a leotard to your dick.” A moment later, he adds, “It’s impolite and ruins my concentration.”

 

After that, Kylo keeps his mouth shut and listens to Hux. he finishes quickly and knots off the thread before using a miniature pair of scissors to cut off the excess thread. 

 

“All set,” he says, standing up and straightening his cap and bells. “Please don’t tear it again.”

 

“Of course,” Kylo whispers. 

 

Hux jerks his head up and realizes just how close they’re standing. He snaps the sewing kit shut and clutches it close to his chest, barely breathing. 

 

“Kylo - “ he says, not sure what he would follow it with but it doesn’t matter because then Kylo’s mouth is pressed against his, pulling him close. He feels a bit like he’s flying and even more like he’s dying, every single one of his atoms being compressed into a single square inch of space.  _ “Kylo - “ _

 

His hands are gripping his waist, pulling him closer than Hux believed possible. Kylo’s mouth is latched onto his neck, pressing kisses and biting but never hard enough to leave bruises. Hux feels like he’s burning as he drags Kylo’s head up to kiss him again, harder and harder and harder. He wants  _ more. _

 

“Kylo - “

 

Kylo pulls away, his pupils blown wide. “Yes?”

 

Hux feels himself blushing as he says, “I’ve wanted that for so long.”

 

“So have I,” Kylo says, smiling that crooked grin of his.

 

“Months,” Hux says, at the same time Kylo says, “Years.”

 

“Oh,” Hux says. “Sorry - “

 

“It’s ok,” Kylo says, “Because I have this now,” before pulling Hux back in, fingers biting into his sides as they kiss. 

 

Hux forces himself to pull away, but he can't stop the smile from tugging at the edges of his mouth. “We need to go back to the booth,” he says, “And fix our makeup.”

 

“Do we - “

 

“Yes,” he says, but that doesn’t stop him from kissing Kylo a few more times first.

 

…

 

They fix their makeup at the booth between quick kisses and last minute sales. Hux smiles every time Kylo accidentally - and on purpose - touches him, soft and warm. Even Kylo is more cordial with people visiting the con as he fills his last few digital art slots of the convention. 

 

He kisses Kylo one last time before opening the conversation with Phasma on his phone.  _ You were right,  _ he says, before turning off his phone to avoid the onslaught of calls and text messages she was certain to send his way.

 

…

 

Kylo doesn’t sleep on the drive back home. 

 

He connects his phone to the car stereo and plays music at a volume that doesn’t threaten to destroy Hux’s eardrums. He never plays a song all the way through - skips it as soon as the volume lowers or the pace slows down. He taps out the beat on the window with his right hand, and holds Hux’s with his left.

 

He smiles at Hux, and Hux smiles back.

 

…

 

They cook breakfast together the next morning as the news plays on the television. Hux can hear it through the wall but he can’t make out any words, just indistinct noises. 

 

Kylo makes eggs, hip checking Hux as he watches bread brown in the toaster oven. It’s domestic and happy and something Hux thought he would be a part of, but something about it is what he always wanted.

 

…

 

They sit on the couch, a fleece blanket covering their intertwined legs. They finished breakfast a few minutes ago and their dirty plates and silverware are left discarded on the coffee table. Hux nurses his second tea of the morning, the mug warm between his palms. 

 

“What are we?” Kylo asks. He doesn’t bother to turn down the TV volume or turn to look at Hux, but his hand rests on Hux’s upper thigh - not squeezing, just existing.

 

“Does it really matter at this point?”

 

Kylo hums, noncommittal. “I suppose not.”

 

“Unless you want us to be something.” When Kylo doesn’t respond, Hux adds, “Do you want us to be something?”

 

“We don’t have to label it,” he says slowly, “I just want to know if you want the same thing.”

 

“Which is?” he asks, taking a sip of tea. It’s beginning to cool. He decides against microwaving it; he’s almost down to the dregs. 

 

“Monogamous?” 

 

“So a relationship.”

 

“It doesn’t need to be defined. I just - I only want to be with you, and I wanted to know if you want the same thing. It’s okay if you don’t, or if you don’t even want our relationship to be anything other than us living together, or if you think dating or whatever would be awkward because we live together and who would have to move if we broke up, and who would get all the appliances we bought together, or the couch, or - “

 

“You’re rambling,” Hux says. He drinks the last of his tea before pressing a kiss to Kylo’s cheek. “I’m happy with monogamy - with just you. That’s what I want, actually.”

 

“Oh,” Kylo says. “That’s - good to know. I’m glad we’re in agreement. That’s - “

 

“Kylo?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can you please just kiss me?” Hux asks, and Kylo doesn’t bother to respond, just pulls him close and kisses him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! comments and kudos are appreciated :)  
> tumblr - shuos-jedao/claude-lit/prettyboykylo  
> twitter - cactixix


End file.
